No. 9: Rumours of my death have been greatly exaggerated / presumed dead / blind rage / tears

Whumpee: Merlin

(Continued from Ch. 7)

When Sir Robert reached the courtyard, he shouted at the guards, "Get Gaius! Get the Court Physician!" and scrambled off his horse, carrying Merlin in his arms. He reached the physician's tower in record time, and watched as Gaius took a long look at Merlin, dangling and feverish in his arms.

"On the bed, here," Gaius showed Robert to the patient cot. "What happened?"

As Robert recounted the terror with the snake at the White Mountains, he watched as a flurry of emotions passed Gaius's face, before he took a breath and the old impassive medical look was back.

"Right, then, I'll need plenty of blankets and fresh water."

As Sir Robert was getting Gaius the tools he needed, Gaius got together a remedy of coriander, liquorice, and comfrey. Merlin was unconscious and feverish, taking gasping breaths. Even the few moments it took Gaius to make the potion, his fever seemed to grow.

Gaius worked throughout the night, plying Merlin with plenty of fluids, tonics, and cold cloths. Finally when the moon was at its highest, Gaius sat with his head in his hands. He knew that Merlin had reached the limit of modern medicine, and even the quick enchantments he had done weren't enough to break his fever. Since the source of the sickness was magic, the cure must be magic as well. He set his bottom lip and shuffled out of his overheated quarters, down into the bowels of the castle, to see an old friend.

As soon as Gaius had woken up the Great Dragon, he had been in a rage. "How could you let this happen?!" the great beast screeched. "The warlock must be saved – no matter the cost."

Gaius frowned. "I've tried everything I can think of – everything! What else can I do?"

The Great Dragon cocked his head, studying the old man – someone who was not a friend to the Old Religion, but someone he respected for toeing the line by keeping some magic in Camelot. "There is a spell that I can give you to heal Merlin," he said. "It will come at a great cost to you."

Gaius was ready for anything. "Anything at all will be a help," he told the Dragon.

"Very well," the Dragon had said before blowing a mist onto Gaius… a mist that contained a wonderful mixture of peace, love, and healing. The words were tumbling around Gaius's head as he half-ran, half-walked back to his chambers. He only hoped that Merlin was still alive by the time he arrived.

The caravan with the children, headed by Arthur, was making good time on its way to Camelot. They had spent the night right outside the forest that bordered Camelot, and the entire day was spent at a hearty trot, as Arthur was anxious to see how his friend was doing. There was so much that could've gone wrong… Merlin could have fallen off of a horse. His knights could have overslept. One of their horses could have thrown a shoe. When Arthur had last seen Merlin, he had been like a ragdoll. His fever had made his cheeks flush and his unseeing eyes glaze bright. From the stories that the children had told, the rest of the adults started in a similar way: first numb, then blind, then the fever really struck. "All within three days," they had told him solemnly, unfortunately, when he had asked for more detail. Arthur pursed his lips. If there was anyone within the kingdom of Camelot that he would trust to help Merlin heal, it was Gaius. Gaius could fix him… and they'd be back to normal, with the prince bossing him around and Merlin's cocky retorts flying at his back.

Through Arthur's musings, the forest had given way to the little villages just outside of Camelot, then the lower town, then the courtyard at the citadel. They were home – finally. He dismounted his black stallion, practically throwing the reins at the attending guard, and started into the castle to find his friend. He dodged servants and courtiers alike, winding through the labyrinth of hallways and passages to Gaius's quarters in the turret.

"Sire, you're back!" the bright voice of Guinevere was the only thing that brought Arthur out of his trance.

"Yes, just now," he told her hurriedly, only slightly slowing his pace. "I'm on my way to see Merlin."

She smiled. "He'll like that; he's been asking about you."

He gave her a half-smile back, then picked up his pace again. Wait, so did that mean that Merlin lived? How could it be so? He was on the brink of death just a day ago… he knocked and without waiting for a reply, opened up the door to Gaius's chambers to see Merlin… sitting up in bed. Reading a book. Munching on an apple.

"Wha – how- egh – Merl – " only sounds were able to come out of Arthur's mouth.

"Oh, hi Arthur," he got in return. "When did you get back? Are the children OK?"

Arthur took a deep breath, then shook his head. Gaius. It had to be. His eyes drank in his friend again, looking critically at the bloodshot eyes, the pale face with the remainder of a flush, the piles of blankets. It hit him just then at how close Merlin had been to death. As he sat down in the chair by Merlin's bed, his eyes prickled. He had almost lost a friend, because Merlin was a friend – not a knight. He shouldn't have been in battle, but he chose to put himself in harm's way each time.

Shaking his head again, this time to put the tears where they belonged – deep down, where no one would see them – Arthur smiled. "Yes, we just got back. The children have been asking about you." Merlin's smile was just enough to give him a slight cuff on the head. "And if you ever do a fool thing like that again, I'll make sure you're too busy mucking out my stables to join us in battle."

"What, and let you have all the fun? No thanks," was the snappy reply.

Arthur continued to smile. "Do you ever do as you're told?"

-Fin-